“Yup,” Adiron drawls.
“There’s an old mining station at Kafterra Prime,” Mathiras says, all business even as Adiron punches him in the gut. The third brother, Kaspar, goes around to Adiron’s other side and gets his brother in a headlock, one hand braced against Adiron’s horns to freeze him in place. They’re both grinning like keffing madmen while Mathiras tries to have a conversation with me.
These three don’t need another crew member. They need a referee.
“Kafterra Prime, okay,” I say. “Doesn’t ring a bell but I’m sure I can find it. You’re looking for a nav, right?” I did some navigation when I was back in the military, though it’s not my favorite thing.
Mathiras gives a sharp nod. “The station’s no longer in use and Kafterra Prime shows as abandoned. At least, it’s supposed to be.”
“There’s a distress signal on the moon, though,” Adiron adds, his voice choked thanks to his brother’s arm around his neck.
“That’s where we think the pirates are hiding out,” Mathiras says. “Sending out distress signals and luring in ships that come through. Seven vessels have gone missing in that particular sector in the last year. It’s obviously them.”
I grunt. “So the plan is that we swoop in and clean house?”
“Collect all those sweet, sweet bounties,” Adiron chokes out.
There’s something about that that sits wrong with me. Maybe those pirates are just trying to live a quiet life in a quiet place and keffing idiots keep showing up to try and collect on them. I think about my own troubles with that sort of thing lately and yeah, it just doesn’t feel right.
“We need a nav and another hand that’s good with a blaster,” Mathiras says. “Since we’re already in the Jintarr system, we can be at port on Risda to pick you up in a few hours.”
“You in?” Kaspar asks, releasing his hold on Adiron with a light slap to his brother’s cheek.
“Hours?” I echo. “That’s…”
“What?” Mathiras crosses his arms, frowning at me. “You said you’d be ready whenever.”
“I did,” I agree. But that was a week ago. I glance out the window as Piper comes into view. The floppy hat hides her face, but I watch as she pulls out a tool and pries open one of her drones, peering at the circuitry. I can tell by the look on her face that she has no clue what she’s staring at, but I can also tell that she’s determined to fix it, whatever the problem is.
She’s not the type to give up. Ever. She’ll just grit her teeth and get down to business. Admirable little thing.
“That’s too soon,” I say abruptly. “I need another day or two. Cleaning up some business here.”
“We’re not going to wait another week,” Mathiras warns, a hard look on his face. “If they get word that we’re heading in their direction, they might scatter.”
“Two days,” I tell him, nodding. I watch in horror as Piper leans over the drone with a hand welder. That’s the last tool she needs to fix a faulty drone and she’s going to destroy it if she’s not careful. “I have to go. Two days, all right?”
“What are we supposed to keffing do for two more days—”
I hang up before they can argue with me and sprint outside. Mathiras talks a big game, but if they need a navigator and a fourth for their head-hunting mission, they’ll wait two more days for me. I just need enough time to get Piper settled and then I can join them. It doesn’t feel right just running out on her hours after she sprung me from jail.
If I’m being honest with myself, it doesn’t feel right leaving immediately after last night…but I’m not gonna be honest with myself. I’ll help her fix a few drones, maybe help her wire a sentry system around the perimeter, and let her know I’m coming back in a few months and I’ll slide her some credits to help things along.
4
PIPER
I don’t understand Vordigar.
One moment he can’t leave this place—and me—fast enough. The next, he’s racing across the field to come and fix my drone. He takes all day working on my equipment, optimizing things and fixing burnt out parts that look like nothing to my uneducated human eyes. He’s unfailingly patient, too. As he fixes the drones, he tells me what he’s doing and shows me how to fix these sorts of things in the future. He wants me to learn, and I want to learn, and I appreciate it. I’m not sure all of it will stick, but I appreciate the information all the same.
For an ex-con, he sure does have a soft heart.
I watch him as I make dinner—more noodles, this time with a protein broth and savory spices—and he tinkers with a bit of equipment at the table. He’s sweaty and dirty from spending all day working on my farm equipment, dirty smears on his blue skin that blend in all too well with his riotous tattoos. His scars face me, but he’s not ugly. I think of the way he watched me last night as he came inside me, as he touched me and made me come.